Smile
by Timeloopy
Summary: Suliet fluff. . .a 'what-if they met somewhere else' story. . .I decided to continue it after all. Let me know if I should keep going - I'm still not entirely sure whether this is actually a story or just a series of ficlets.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Short and sweet Suliet fluff. I'm trying so hard not to go read all the spoilers before Tuesday. . . got to distract myself. All my favorite online spots have become spoiler-minefields. Hope you like. . ._

***

He was trying to do this thing.

This Dad thing.

And it was hard.

Harder than conning women into giving you all their money.

Harder than lying and cheating your way out of prison.

Harder than admitting you loved someone – not that he ever had.

"So, why didn't I have a dad before?" the little blue-eyed princess had just asked over her melting ice cream, making him want to run as far and as fast as he could.

"Well, you did. I mean, I've always been your dad." He spooned up a bite of ice cream from the dish and popped it into her mouth but she wasn't deterred.

"No, I didn't. I didn't have a daddy to come to the father-daughter pancake breakfast last year," she pointed out. Her eyes never left his face, although she did take the spoon from his hand and shovel in another bite.

He groaned inwardly but tried to keep his cool.

"You're making that face you make," she said with a mouthful of ice cream and it dripped down the corner of her mouth.

"Don't talk with your mouth full," he managed to get out. There. That sounded like fatherly advice. Didn't it?

Sawyer looked down at the white plasticized table and realized they'd already used the entire massive stack of napkins he'd brought over before they started this little meal. How did she get to be so messy? Were all kids this messy?

More importantly, were they all this damn perceptive? He couldn't put anything over on her.

It was like some kind of curse. He'd always been able to get around every female he'd ever known. They liked his eyes or his drawl or his body or what he could make them feel – there was always something – he was good with women.

But not this one.

Not this one who had somehow started to matter more to him than any of the rest.

This one he wanted to impress.

Needed to impress.

Hell, he wanted her respect and he'd never cared about getting respect before from anybody.

And she could see straight through him. Every. Damn. Time.

"I haven't been a very good dad is all," he finally said when she'd stared him down.

She shrugged and gave him that sweet little smile that always made him feel like he might know what grace was.

"You're doing better," she said, letting him off the hook. "Can I go play?"

"Sure," he said, breathing a sigh of relief.

And then looking over her shoulder she drove the knife in and turned it.

"I don't like pancakes that much anyway."

He watched her play on the big multi-colored plastic tubes that filled the inside of the McDonalds play area. Cassidy called it a germ pit and had warned him time and against that he was supposed to be getting to know his daughter and that this was a cop-out. As he watched her climbing around and waving at him from the little plexiglass window in the rocketship, he didn't much care that it was a cop-out. She was smiling. At him. So, he'd bring her to this germ pit every chance he got for as long as it made her smile.

It wasn't like he was father of the year to begin with, he told himself.

Sawyer cleaned off the table while keeping one eye on his daughter and crossed the room to toss the debris in the trash bin – saving only his cup of coffee. It had taken this long for the damn stuff to cool down enough to drink without scorching his tongue.

When he got back, a blonde woman was just setting her brown plastic tray in the spot he'd vacated.

"Oh," she sounded so dejected when she said it. "This table's yours, then."

She picked up her tray and glanced around the room. Sawyer followed her gaze and saw that every other table was filled with half-eaten Happy Meals that children occasionally showed back up to graze from, while their parents watched with varying degrees of irritation, indulgence, and neglect.

"You can sit if you want," he offered as he checked the woman out. She was pretty. Been a while since he'd had dinner with a beautiful woman over the age of 6.

"I hate to intrude, but every single other seat in this place is taken and I've been on my feet all day," her voice was semi-apologetic as she sank gratefully into the plastic chair. "And I'm Juliet by the way. Not a weirdo or anything – there's not any chairs in there either."

She waved her hand in the direction of the grown-up portion of the restaurant beyond the barrier created to house the play area. He nodded and sipped at his coffee, keeping his eye on Clementine.

"Which one's yours?" she asked between bites of Big Mac.

Sawyer grinned and pointed at the five year old girl with blonde curls bouncing around her face as she charged around the carpeted area reserved for those shorter than the plastic clown who guarded the entrance.

"That one," he said, realizing that perhaps Juliet was checking to make sure his own intentions were honorable.

"She's beautiful," Juliet said, picking up the Styrofoam cup that contained some icy beverage and drinking from the straw. "I don't have any."

"Children?" he asked.

"Right. Never had time. Or," she corrected herself. "Never thought I had time."

"I used to think that," he said. "Now, it seems like I wasted a lot of time I should have spent with her."

He was watching Clementine play and realized his table companion had gone silent. He turned and saw that she was suddenly very focused on her food.

"Name's James." He extended his hand across the table and she squeezed at his fingers with her own greasy ones.

She flushed a little and extended a napkin to him. "Think I may have gotten a little ketchup on you."

"No problem," he said as he took another look at her. She really was gorgeous and he never had been one to pass up opportunity. "I don't guess you're free for dinner tomorrow night."

The blue eyes registered surprise – as though she really had just been looking for a place to sit. As though she didn't get asked out much, which surprised him as much as his invitation had surprised her.

"I wasn't hitting on you," she began but he cut her off.

"I know. I'm hitting on you, though, just so we're clear."

She was quiet for a minute – stuffed a couple of fries in her mouth and chewed thoughtfully. Then a bit of burger. Another fry.

"I'm really busy for the next two weeks," she said. "I work across the street – at Burke Research Center. We're up against a deadline and I honestly don't have time to breathe for the next two weeks. This is my first meal today."

Sawyer kept his eye on her allowing just a little of his con man's charm to creep into his grin. "So, two weeks from now then?"

That cool gaze seemed to be measuring him – sizing him up to see if he was really worth her time.

"Okay, in two weeks," she agreed. Now, she reached into the pocket of her lab coat and pulled out a business card which she slid across the table face down.

"It's a date," he said picking up the card without looking and slipping it into his shirt pocket.

He thought he saw her blush a little, and he definitely saw a smile that lit up her entire face - making her even more lovely.

She pushed her chair back and gave the straw one last hard pull that made that sad sound indicating she was out of whatever she was drinking. Juliet stood up and started toward the trash bins without saying anything else although he liked to think there was more spring in her step than when she entered.

Several minutes later, Clementine appeared in front of him red-faced with sweat plastering her little curls to her head.

"Who's the lady?" his daughter asked, panting for breath.

"What lady?" he asked, gathering up her long hair and holding it up off her neck to help cool her down.

"The one who made you smile," Clementine clarified.

The lady who made him smile.

Nope, he never could put anything past Clementine. He was starting to figure he might as well stop trying.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note: Whew! How 'bout that episode – every time I think they've rung out my last tear over suliet, they just pour it on a little thicker and there's my mascara running down my face again. I don't know about you guys but I need a little happy about now. **_

***

Juliet had already begun to second guess herself by the time Rachel knocked on her door almost two weeks later. He wasn't going to call – why had she told him to call back in two weeks? But maybe that was a good thing – maybe she shouldn't have agreed to go at all – best that he forget all about it.

Rachel tapped again and jarred Juliet from her ponderings.

"You didn't have to do this," Juliet said, taking the bag her sister extended. The scents of lasagna and garlic bread emanated from the bag making Juliet's stomach clench with hunger.

"Yes, I do," Rachel grinned affectionately. "When's the last time you had a decent meal."

Juliet glanced guiltily at the top of her desk which bore what was left of her lunch – no, scratch that, she'd skipped lunch – her desk held breakfast.

Rachel caught the look and ducked past her to scoop up the half-eaten vending machine danish and toss it into the trash.

"I was busy," Juliet tried to brush it off.

"You're _always_ busy. You never take time to eat a good meal."

"Yes, Mommy," Juliet mocked and Rachel had to laugh at herself.

"I worry – it's what older sisters do. Tell me that you were planning to eat something besides the rest of that revolting thing for dinner and I'll never say another word about it."

"Actually," Juliet began loftily, then at a raised eyebrow from Rachel, deflating a bit. "Actually, I wasn't planning to eat dinner at all. We're trying to meet a deadline."

Rachel studied her sister with a practiced eye. She hadn't needed to be told that Juliet had a deadline. She had all the classic signs of Juliet in full-on workaholic mode – her hair frizzing around her face and escaping a crooked French twist, her skin pale from too much time in the lab, bags under her eyes from lack of sleep, and the pent up energy dancing just below the surface that made her look alive despite all the rest.

"When's the deadline?" Rachel relented.

"Friday. The trial is going perfectly – well, almost perfectly – nothing's perfect. Very positive results. And the review is Friday – if they like what they see, we'll be approved for the next stage!"

And that was what worried Rachel – there was always a next stage – always something else to be done before Juliet could let her hair down and relax. Juliet sensed the disapproval and tried to ward it off.

"But you'll be so proud of me. I have a date this weekend."

"Really? With who?" Rachel blurted.

"Uhm," Juliet cast around in her mind for the name. Damn. The face she remembered just fine, who could forget it? And he was built like one of those models in the cologne ads – the kind where the guy with chiseled abs and a perfect tan burst from the water looking like a Greek god. She saw Rachel staring at her skeptically and gratefully spoke the name that seemed to go with the image. "James!"

"James who?" Rachel's arms were folded across her body now.

Juliet realized she felt a little insulted – it wasn't _that_ much of a stretch to think she had a date. Well okay, so she rarely went anywhere except the lab and her apartment. And the fact that she and her ex-husband each owned fifty percent of the company did pretty much squelch any sort of opportunity for workplace romance. _And_ she'd dropped her gym membership after the divorce and bought a Stairmaster for her office instead. Oh, who was she kidding, she was practically a hermit. Regardless, Rachel didn't have to act like she'd just declared that Atlantis had popped to the surface and was peopled entirely by creatures composed of black smoke.

"James Ford," the words floated off her tongue with a slight caress that puzzled her. "He's a very nice man – and easy on the eyes."

"James Ford. And where did you meet James Ford?"

_On an island, her subconscious whispered._ "At McDonalds," she said instead. "The McDonalds across the street. He brought his daughter there to play and there weren't enough tables."

"Oh, for the love of all that is good," Rachel's voice reeked of exasperation. "His daughter? Juliet, he's probably married."

"No, I don't think so. He wasn't wearing a ring or anything." She cringed at her defensive tone. But now that she thought about it, she couldn't be sure. Had he said whether he was married or had she just assumed he wasn't when he asked her out?

"Or a serial killer," Rachel said now going full-tilt in the opposite direction.

"I thought you wanted me to relax and have fun more."

"Not at the expense of your safety."

"But it'll be perfectly safe. What could happen? It's dinner." _And a movie, her subconscious supplied. Dinner and a movie with the Goodspeeds – think we can pull off pretending to be surprised that Darth is Luke's dear old dad, Blondie._ Juliet shook her head. Obviously, Rachel was right. She did need a decent meal and a good night's sleep if she was daydreaming in the middle of a simple conversation.

"I just think you should know more about him, that's all."

"That's what a date's for, Rachel."

"Coffee."

"Excuse me?" Juliet's brow wrinkled in confusion.

"Before the big date, you could go out for coffee. Besides, it'll force you to take a break sometime in the next few days rather than working 24/7."

"I don't have time."

"Make time. It'll make me feel better and you don't like it when I worry," Rachel wheedled.

Juliet tried to stare Rachel down but as usual her older sister didn't budge.

"Fine. When he calls to set up the date, I'll ask him if he wants to go out for coffee first."

"And go dutch."

"Why?"

"Because then you don't owe him anything – you can back out on the date if you want to."

"Okay, Rachel. Fine. When he calls, I'll arrange to meet him for coffee and we'll go dutch. Are you happy now?"

"Ecstatic! I'm going home to google him and make sure he's not a serial killer."

"You do that, Rach. You do that."

***

_**A/N: I meant to get to the coffee date in this chapter but I ran out of time. Hope you enjoy. I haven't had time to read lately, I'm sure Sawyer and Juliet have about ten thousand coffee dates posted on this site by now. I thought I'd add mine to the mix. : )**_


	3. Chapter 3

"What's this?" Juliet said as James stepped into her office and extended a styrofoam cup in her direction.

"You said you wanted to meet for coffee. This is coffee," he said with a grin and she thought he might have rolled his eyes a little.

"But I meant," she began, then stopped herself – she wasn't that nervous insecure child that married Edmund any more. She was an accomplished professional. She took a breath and finished her sentence cooly. "Well, thank you. But I could have bought my own coffee."

"And you could have carried your supper back to the office when you saw there were no tables too," his voice teased her with the challenge.

"I suppose I could have," she said. "Next time the coffee's on me."

Juliet didn't turn her back on him as she maneuvered herself behind her desk and dropped into her chair cradling the coffee. James looked at the two visitor's chairs and chuckled – he picked up one of the stacks of papers and raised an eyebrow.

"Oh, just stack them with the others," Juliet said, apparently unconcerned. She waved her hand at the other chair.

James shrugged and did as she asked, then settled into the seat across the desk from her.

"My sister googled you," Juliet said.

"You're cyber-stalking me?" he mocked.

"Not me. My over-protective older sister."

"And what did your over-protective older sister discover."

Juliet looked vaguely uncomfortable.

"Go ahead," James said, his eyes narrowed slightly. "I've googled myself a time or two – tell me what you know."

A less confident woman would have blushed under his gaze – as it was, Juliet shifted uncomfortably.

"You've been arrested."

"Sounds right so far."

"Multiple times – one major conviction – you're a con man."

James nodded. "I lie for a living, yeah."

"You aren't going to try and explain yourself? You ask out a woman who owns half of one of the top privately owned pharmaceutical research companies in the country. You're telling me that's a coincidence."

James shrugged. "Would you believe me if I told you it was?"

"No."

"Then what's the point in explaining? I'm a bad guy."

"The kind of guy who'd use his own daughter in a con?"

At this, he bristled. "No. I'd never use my daughter. Period. Enjoy your damn coffee."

He got up and stalked out. Juliet sat at her desk unsure why she was disappointed. He was a con man – as Rachel had discovered with surprising little trouble. He was probably about to try and steal all her money. So why was she disappointed – she should be angry. Shouldn't she?

***

James Ford got into his car and slammed the door harder than was necessary – harder than was advisable in this piece of junk he was driving. Because the damn thing bounced right back open which just made him madder.

It always comes back around, he thought. Why did he ever try to do the right thing? His past was always right there behind him to drag him back down and trip him up.

He was still fuming when he heard a tap on the glass and looked out.

Juliet was standing there holding two cups of coffee. He rolled down the window.

"What's this?" he asked, between clenched teeth.

"Coffee," Juliet said innocently – but with just the slightest hint that she was mocking him. "Some guy brought two cups of it to my office and then stormed out before he got to drink his. I started to pour it out but then I tasted mine and thought – you know, this is really good coffee. Shame to waste it."

"That wasn't righteous indignation up there – whatever your sister dug up about me is probably true. If it's dishonest, I've probably done it. If there's a lie, I've probably told it."

"Are you going to unlock the door so we can at least be comfortable while we have this uncomfortable conversation?"

James wasn't sure what to make of this woman. But, damn, she made a lab coat look good. So, he leaned across and unlocked the door to let her in. Like any red blooded American male would have done – or French or German or Russian or any other nationality come to think of it.

When she was settled in and had handed him his cup, she offered him a smirk – though not an unfriendly smirk.

"Did you know who I was when you asked me out?"

"You won't believe me."

"Try me."

"No. I didn't know who you were. You're the one that sat down with me, actually."

"If you're any good, you'd have made it look like it was my idea."

James sipped at his coffee and cast his eyes heavenward. "Innocence is much harder to prove than guilt." He muttered.

"Are you currently a con man or is that your former occupation?" she asked with a lift of her eyebrow.

He hesitated at that and then shrugged. "Currently."

"Hmmm."

James glanced at her and didn't see any judgement there. Just open curiosity. Somehow, he felt like he could talk to her. 

"But I'm between jobs. I'm trying to get to know my daughter – or something – it's not going that great really."

"You waited til she was, what? Four? To get to know her?"

"She's five. And yeah, I thought she was better off with no father at all than a father like me."

"What changed your mind?" Juliet sipped her coffee and watched him – there was pain etched into the lines of his handsome face. He might be a bad guy – but there was more to it than that – she could feel it.

"I went to Australia to settle some old business – and things didn't go exactly like I planned. I guess I just got to thinking after that – that maybe I was living my life focused on the wrong things."

"Like theft?" She was smiling, he realized. He was baring his soul to her and she was practically laughing at him.

"Why are we having coffee together?"

"Because the only person who has asked me out in a very long time turned out to be a con man – it was eye opening."

"How's that?"

"Well, I guess I just realized that I'm missing out on a lot – hiding in my lab."

"Is that what you've been doing?"

"More or less," she said.

"You still want to go out?"

"I'm lonely – I'm not an idiot. Even if you didn't know who I was before – you do now."

"So why'd you want to have coffee?"

"Curiosity."

A look crept across his face that made her wish she was an idiot – at least for a little while – she felt her heartbeat speed up. He leaned across the console of the car and his eyes roamed her body, landing on her face, though his gaze had paused significant on other locations during its tour.

"Still curious?" he asked.

She looked down at the coffee in her hand. _Curiouser and curiouser, her subconscious murmured to her. You ever wake up on this island and feel like you've stepped through the looking glass, Blondie._

"A little," she answered and was amazed at how steady her voice remained.

He was so close that she could feel his breath on her skin, but she didn't back away. Seconds ticked by and he raised his hand and brushed her hair back from her right cheek and tucked it behind her ear. She leaned toward him a half inch and was shocked at his response.

He laughed. Then, he ducked to one side and kissed her cheek.

"Curiosity will get you into trouble, Blondie." The nickname sounded so natural to her ear that her breath caught in her throat.

"If we'd kissed, would you have thought that was your idea?"

Color flooded her face, half in embarrassment and half in anger. She fumbled with the car door handle and shook him off when he reached for her hand.

"I'm sorry," he said so softly she could barely hear it.

"Sorry?" she said, turning to him. "Are you trying to con me? Or just make fun of me?"

If he was faking his reaction to that, he was even better than she'd imagined. He looked genuinely contrite.

"I could use a friend," he offered. "I don't have many. Or maybe I don't have any."

"No wonder," she said, successfully pushing the door open at last.

"Let me make it up to you. We could have dinner."

"No."

"Lunch?"

"Absolutely not."

"Monster truck rally?"

She had already gotten out of the car and was about to shut the door, but at that one, she stopped. Juliet leaned her head back into the car.

"What did you say?

James looked puzzled.

"Monster. . . truck. . . rally?"

"Have you ever BEEN to a monster truck rally?"

"No."

"Do you know where to find one?"

"Well, no. But if you want to go to one – I'll track one down."

Juliet tapped her foot on the concrete and chewed on her lower lip for a second. James thought it was sexy as hell but he decided it was best not to voice that thought.

"Fine. Call me when you track down a monster truck rally and we'll go. As friends."

James felt like she'd spelled 'friends' out for him in large neon capital letters. Still, he liked this woman. As Clementine had pointed out, she made him smile.

"Deal. Since we're going as friends, I'll be sure to let you know how much your ticket is."

"You do that."

"And I'll want you to pay for half of the gas."

"Wouldn't dream of it being otherwise."

"And Juliet?"

"Yes?"

"You smell better than my last 'friend'." He tried to imitate the exact tone she'd used on the word a few seconds before.

Juliet glared at him and slammed the door at that. As she walked away, he chuckled and started the car. He supposed he'd have to google Monster Truck Rallies when he got home.

When Juliet was safely inside, she leaned against the cool stucco and gathered her composure. Her lab assistants couldn't quite figure out why she seemed unusually happy for the rest of the afternoon – but they knew better than to question it. They were all just a little bit scared of her.


End file.
